


Three to Seven Days

by LoveChilde



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Extras, Community: purimgifts, Cristina is still Meredith's person, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Nobody dies who wasn't already dead, San Diego, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveChilde/pseuds/LoveChilde
Summary: Five months after Derek's death, Cristina pays a surprise visit to San Diego





	Three to Seven Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sapphire2309](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/gifts).



> An advance apology - I haven't written in this fandom since about the second season, and stopped actually watching it around the hospital merger, but I've kept up and watched an ep or two as a refresher, since this idea came into my head and insisted on being written. Happy Purim!

“Cristina.”

We stare at each other in silence. Her face is a question.

“You knew if you gave me the address I’d use it.” I answer, unasked. 

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “I also knew you’d lie about having it if anybody asked.”

“I did.” I don’t smile, not quite. I don’t tell her people in Seattle are worried; she knows it well enough. It’s her right to take some space, to find herself, away from them. To run away. I’m pretty good at running away, myself, so I should know. 

“They tried?”

“Of course they tried.” I snort. She seems surprised. “They’re worried you’ll kill yourself.”

“With two kids and another on the way? Please. Besides, I left a note.” Her hand rests on her stomach, and it’s only then that I notice the bump. Maybe four months in, though it’s hardly my speciality. “If anything happened to me they’d be the first to know, Alex is my emergency medical contact.” She shrugs as well. “Come on, we might as well sit.”

Two kids and another on the way. Am I jealous? I think back to what’s become home, the gleaming lab equipment, the staff under my command, the miracles we tried to craft every day, my cool, neat apartment with the amazing view - and I’m not even a little bit jealous. I remember Meredith at Derek’s funeral: how could I ever be jealous of what she has, with all she’s lost? I’m at peace with myself. 

“You’re lucky I’m off rotation today.” She doesn’t smile either, and still it feels like we’re grinning at each other, and I’m thrown back almost violently to our first months as interns. “You’d have found an empty house.”

“I checked to make sure.” 

“Of course you did.” She does smile now, and I smile back. She doesn’t look like she’s done a lot of smiling in the past months. “My mom tried, you know.” 

I don’t know, and raise a practiced eyebrow in question.

“To kill herself. When I was really young. I was there. She failed, obviously. I called 911.”

I shake my head and say nothing. Every time I think Meredith Grey’s life can’t get any more dark and twisty, her past or present surprise me.

My eyes settle on her stomach again. “When did this happen?” Knowing Meredith, and being entirely brutal inside my own mind, it could be Derek’s or it could be random stranger’s, the result of drunken grief in some San Diego dive. Meredith likes to collect babies, I’m sure she wouldn’t have terminated even a random rebound stranger’s baby. 

“Probably...the night before. We talked about trying for another. I only found out about a month ago.” 

“He always was unreasonably successful at things.” I just manage not to sound sarcastic about it, and her smile twitches wider. “I’m glad I didn’t bring coffee.”

“I still drink coffee. Sometimes. I still work nights, so that’s pretty much inevitable.”

I take a deep breath, and then dive in to where we don’t want to go and shouldn’t have to go. “How are you?”

Once, I’d have known without asking. Even now, I’m sure I can make an accurate guess, but we’ve grown too far apart for me not to do her the courtesy of asking. 

She shrugs and stares into the distance. Typical. “Most days I only think about death about four or five times. Not always mine, which I guess is me doing better? Sometimes I wonder who I’ll lose next. Sometimes I dream Derek is still alive.” She swings her foot, kicking the sofa a little. “Those are the worst nights. I’m hanging in there. Picking myself up. Saving lives, raising my kids. They’re young enough that they’re bouncing back faster. Makes it easier.”

I nod, even though I have no basis for analysis here, and have to take her word for it. I hate not having empirical proof, but as I’m occasionally reminded, people are not lab specimens. Not all people, at least. Not Meredith. 

“You’ll be alright?”

“Eventually.” 

On this, also, I have to take her word.

“You can call me, if you’d like. I’ll keep lying if they ask again.”

“Thanks. I might go back, someday. Eventually.”

“Yeah.” I don’t say the same. We both know I’m never coming back. To the States, maybe. Never to Seattle. I check my watch and stand. “I should go.”

She sees me to the door. “Cristina...I’m not sure I ever thanked you for flying back for Derek’s funeral.” 

“You didn’t need to. I’ll always come back when you need me.” I surprise myself by how much I mean it. Then I add a caveat, “Within three to seven business days.” I have a life that’s hard to just drop on short notice.

“Allow three to seven days for delivery. Gotcha.”

We hug, when I leave, and it’s not at all awkward. I worried it would be. 

Months later, Alex emails me to say that Meredith had her baby and they’ve found her. I’m in the middle of a whirlwind round of surgeries and see it two days after it was sent. I barely make the seven days deadline.

But I promised. I’m Cristina Yang, and I follow through on promises. 

 

[](http://s1245.photobucket.com/user/Gills8/media/2018%201.jpg.html)

**Author's Note:**

> Art is the skylines of Zurich, Seattle and San Diego.


End file.
